As a writer, certain topics inevitably pull you into their enigmatic embrace, urging you to explore their depths, unraveling layers of intrigue and unanswered questions. Recently, I found myself at the crossroads of curiosity and contemplation when asked to delve into the details of not one but two local criminal cold cases. It perplexed me that two different people approached me to write about two separate but very familiar cases that went cold in the Massachusetts area where I’m from. I’ve written blogs and articles about true crime but have yet to take on a novel. Although my upcoming book features a crime inspired by actual events, it is not murder.

Cold cases, by their very nature, cast a long shadow over the pursuit of justice, leaving the victims and the communities they touched with perpetual unease. The passage of time only deepens this sense of abandonment, yet within their dormant files lie untold narratives yearning to be unearthed. While deciding on this, I am filled with fear and fascination and grapple with the weight of my words and the potential impact of my storytelling on the community and families.

Writing about a cold case isn’t merely about recounting facts and speculating about suspects. It’s about breathing life back into the forgotten, giving voice to those silenced by time. It’s a delicate dance between respect for the victims and their families and the pursuit of uncovering what may have been overlooked. Every sentence carried the weight of responsibility—to honor the truth, to respect the memories, and to ignite a spark of hope for closure.

I’ve had calls and exchanges with information holders, the possible gatekeepers to truths some may never want to be exposed. I am currently vetting them and their information, speaking with police following leads, and seeing where the trail takes me while trying to put the final touches on my upcoming book and continuing to write my third. But I’ve set a deadline—the first step. If the leads pan out and my informants provide, I think I will do it: take this on. I’ve always wanted to write about true crime, and one of these cases was the one my heart longed to take on. It’s stuck with me since childhood, as it happened in my home city, Revere, Massachusetts.

I’m left to wonder if this is a sign from the universe that I am supposed to take this on, although I must admit I’m nervous not only about doing this well but also for my safety, as you never know what doors you are opening that have been closed for so long. And, more importantly, why?

Is this happening for a reason?

Do you believe in that?

Why me? I have questions—so many questions.

But never as many as the families of the victims that have never seen justice. What say you, friends? Should I do this?  Do you think you know which cases? Let me know.